


I Want to Tell You

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine was stuck in his chair by the same niggling question that had been worrying at him for months now.</p><p>set between 3x05 (“The First Time”) and 3x06 (“Mash-Off”) with a minor spoiler for the latter</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want to Tell You

**Author's Note:**

> Title and all lyrics in this fic from The Beatles

Blaine checked the clock as he pulled into Kurt's driveway. Three-thirty-five. He wasn't expected for another ten minutes, and although he hated the rudeness of arriving early, he was fairly certain Kurt wouldn't mind that he was. And if Kurt did, well, Blaine would rather hang out in the living room and wait with Mr. Hummel than drive around the block a few times. Kurt’s dad was pretty nice to Blaine, after all, although he might not be if he figured out what he and Kurt had done the other night. Blaine would have to be on his toes about not letting on just how he was feeling, kind of head-over-heels and needy all at once.

By the time Blaine reconsidered his decision to go inside because he just wasn’t that good of an actor and really didn’t want to be kicked out of the house, he’d already rung the doorbell, so he just squared his shoulders and hoped for the best.

It was Kurt who answered the door, and his smile and the easy way he stepped back to let Blaine in were welcome enough to make Blaine feel certain he'd made the right decision.

"You're early," Kurt said, but the way he reached for the buttons of Blaine's coat made it clear it wasn't a complaint.

"We finished early," Blaine replied and tugged off his scarf as Kurt slid his coat off of his shoulders.

Kurt took Blaine’s scarf and turned to hang them up in the closet. "I still can't believe you're singing that song with Puck and Finn."

"And Mike. Wait 'til you see the choreography."

"Should I be frightened?"

Blaine gave their number about two seconds of consideration from Kurt's perspective and said, "Yes."

Kurt laughed. "I'm glad you're fitting into Glee club so well," he said, trailing his fingers lightly down Blaine's chest. "I'll just focus on that."

Blaine’s heart sped up at Kurt's touch, and he glanced over into the living room. It was empty. Burt's usual spot on the couch was unoccupied.

"He's at a campaign event," Kurt said, still smiling. "With Carole."

And Finn was at football practice, Blaine knew. They were alone. They were alone in Kurt's house, with Kurt's bedroom and Kurt's bed.

Blaine looked over at the stairs and then toward the kitchen, surprised to find himself less excited about the idea than he would have thought. As much as he wanted to drag Kurt upstairs that very second, because they'd had sex ( _made love_ , his mind corrected) and obviously Blaine was more than eager to do it again, it felt huge and kind of wrong that they _had_ to the second they had another opportunity. He'd come over to spend time with Kurt. Not that being naked with Kurt wasn't spending time with him, but it was different... but maybe that _was_ what Kurt wanted. Blaine would be stupid to turn him down. He didn’t _want_ to turn him down.

Maybe this was what happened when you had sex. People said that your relationship changed afterward, and maybe part of that was that you had sex whenever you could. He and Kurt had always stolen moments for making out, but that hadn't been the only thing they'd done together; maybe sex was different. Maybe it took over more time. And, really, it had been so amazing; of course he wanted to have the chance to explore more of Kurt, more _with_ Kurt. Just... with the musical and Glee and Kurt’s college applications they hadn't had as much time just to hang out recently. He'd been looking forward to that this afternoon.

But they were alone, and if Kurt wanted to go up to his bedroom Blaine wasn't going to say _no_. There was no way that was going to happen, even if he hadn't planned on it. Maybe they could hang out afterwards. Of course they could. They'd have time before dinner. Wouldn't they?

He looked back at Kurt, who was watching Blaine's face with a little trepidation Blaine wasn't used to seeing there, like he was nervous, too.

"I thought we'd start by making brownies," Kurt said. "I have a new recipe for low-fat ones that I’d like to try for my dad. Is that okay with you?"

Blaine let out a slow breath and tried not to look too relieved. "Yes," he said, and Kurt's answering smile was bright.

Kurt leaned in for a kiss, humming into it but keeping it soft as he rubbed the tips of his fingers against the nape of Blaine's neck. The gentleness of the touch even more than the familiar press of his lips made Blaine's heart swell in his chest. He knew they were young and in their first relationship, but it was love. It was so definitely love.

"Come on," Kurt said when he pulled back, and he led Blaine toward the kitchen. Kurt fiddled with his iPod on its speaker dock on the table, and the Beatles filtered through the room, low enough not to overtake their conversation.

"The real question is," Kurt said, turning back to Blaine with his eyes sparkling, "whether or not we should add pecans."

"Is that even a question?" Blaine asked.

Kurt grinned at him and began to open cabinet doors. "Pecans it is. We’ll toast them first."

On the whole, Blaine wasn't all that interested in cooking, though he certainly enjoyed eating, but cooking with Kurt wasn't the dull slog of dinner preparation or Home Ec. It was both a learning experience and a lot of fun, especially when they were making something as forgiving as brownies so that he could coax Kurt to leave the batter half-mixed and dance with him around the kitchen when 'Yellow Submarine' started to play.

"It's your fault if there are pockets of flour when they’re baked," Kurt said, still laughing as he helped Blaine up off the floor where he'd fallen to his knees during the last few lines of the song.

"I'm going to blame the irresistible vocal stylings of Ringo Starr," Blaine told him and stole a kiss before Kurt turned back to the bowl of batter.

"Oh, yes, irresistible."

"Hey, you were dancing and singing, too."

Kurt shook his head and said over his shoulder, "That wasn't because _Ringo_ is irresistible, Blaine."

Blaine couldn’t help but lift onto his toes at that. Singing always made him feel a little happily light-headed like he’d stood up too quickly or spun around too many times, and Kurt made it feel that much better. Kurt made everything better.

They got the brownies into the oven, and Kurt let Blaine lick the spoon and bowl clean before handing them over to be washed. He didn’t bat away Blaine’s chocolate-flavored kisses but did send him to sit at the table instead of helping with the dishes.

“I am fond of this vest,” Kurt said. “I really don’t want bubbles all over it.”

“Why would you get bubbles on it if I helped?” Blaine asked, but Kurt just fixed him with a knowing look. He was probably right; Blaine went to the table.

"Oh, not that one," Kurt said, gesturing with his elbow at the iPod as the song changed. "I thought I’d taken it off the playlist. Skip it, please?"

"'I Want to Hold Your Hand'? That's a classic. You don't like it?"

“Please skip it, Blaine,” Kurt said, and Blaine did, though he really couldn’t see why. It was a good song.

“How can you not like that song? I mean, it’s great early Beatles. And I have it on good authority that you like holding hands.”

“This song just has some difficult memories.” Kurt shrugged as he submerged the batter bowl in the sink of sudsy water, and Blaine frowned at the tight line of his shoulders and the sudden softness of his voice.

“What kind of memories?” Blaine asked.

Kurt shrugged again. “When my father was in the hospital last year, I sang it in Glee. For him. About him.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Blaine said, and though he wanted to get up and smooth his hand down Kurt’s back he was stuck in his chair by the same niggling question that had been worrying at him for months now.

“I know. It’s fine. But I’d rather not think about that right now when we’re having such a nice afternoon together.”

That was yet another reason for Blaine not to ask the question, because he didn’t want to ruin their afternoon. They were alone, and with the brownies in the oven they had time to kill. They could be spending it in a lot of new and exciting ways, if they wanted. But that was part of the problem, because they were taking these huge new steps, and for Blaine they were suffused with so much love and emotion. He knew they were for Kurt, too, but it was obviously different for him, so _obviously_ because of this worry Blaine couldn’t shake, and Blaine didn’t know what to do with that. He didn’t know what to feel. If he’d been wondering and kind of hurt in the back of his mind before the night at his house, now understanding mattered so much more.

“Can I ask you a question?” Blaine said before he could stop himself.

Kurt glanced over from the sink. “Of course.”

Blaine looked down at the floor and drew a breath before asking Kurt’s back, “Why don’t you sing to me?”

“Did you hit your head today? I sing to you all the time. Don’t you remember ‘Yellow Submarine’? Or our duets from my musical over the summer? Or _Glee club_?”

“That’s singing _with_ me. And don’t get me wrong, Kurt; I love that. I missed it when you left Dalton, missed having you there beside me in rehearsal or on stage,” Blaine said. “But that’s not singing to me. You know... _to_ me.”

“Do you want me to?” Kurt asked, his eyes sharp with curiosity as he looked at Blaine over his shoulder for a moment.

Blaine shrugged, but as Kurt had turned back to the dishes it was lost on him. It wasn’t really an honest answer, anyway. “I wouldn’t mind,” he finally admitted. “If you wanted to.” He tried not to think about how special it would make him feel to be serenaded about Kurt’s feelings like that, in front of everyone.

Kurt put the bowl in the dish rack to drain and pulled the plug in the sink. He used the sprayer to rinse away the bubbles.

“I know we’re different,” Blaine said, filling up the silence as it started to drag out. “But you know what I mean. I sang to you in the courtyard at school when you transferred. When _I_ transferred. And you didn’t, not to me, and that’s okay, but you sang about your dad to the rest of Glee club, and you sang to them about going back to McKinley, and there were probably other important things, too, but not - “

“Blaine, why do you sing?” Kurt asked abruptly, turning and wiping his hands on the dishtowel.

“Because I love you.”

Kurt shook his head and put the towel back on its hook. “No, that’s why you sing to _me_. Isn’t it?” Blaine nodded. “Why do you _sing_?”

Blaine thought for a second about the rush of performing, about the high he got when pushing his voice out into the world, about the glow that applause and approval gave him. “I love it. It makes me feel good.”

“Right.” Kurt stayed where he was, leaning against the cabinets. His fingers were tight on the edge of the counter but not painfully so, as far as Blaine could tell. He was just holding on.

“You love it, too,” Blaine said, turning more in his chair so his body wasn’t twisted. “I know you do. You were born to perform.”

Kurt inclined his head in agreement, but what he said was, “Sometimes I feel things so strongly that they choke me. I can barely breathe around them. All I can do is sing.”

“Okay,” Blaine said, but his heart felt like it was in free-fall, because if Kurt sang because his feelings were strong then that he _didn’t_ sing to Blaine meant -

“No, I’m not explaining it right,” Kurt said, pushing off from the counter. “You have to understand; for a long time, Blaine, the only way people would listen to me - really _listen_ \- is if I made them. And people listen when I sing. They have to. I don’t give them a choice.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a faint if proud smirk.

“Okay,” Blaine said again. He couldn’t move from his seat, but he tried to listen, as much as he hurt. It was important.

“When my dad was in the hospital, I wanted him _so badly_ , and I didn’t have anyone I could really talk to about it. He’s so important to me, and I - “ Kurt broke off and drew in a deep breath, steadying himself. “I didn’t have anyone who could understand me. But when I sang, everyone listened. It was the only way I could share how I was feeling and be sure they heard exactly what I was trying to say.”

Blaine nodded.

“But that’s not true with you,” Kurt said, smiling a little at him. “Because even when you were woefully blind to my charms and inimitable fashion sense you always saw me. You always heard me.” He walked over in front of Blaine and folded himself down onto his knees, putting his hands on Blaine’s thighs and looking up into his face. “I didn’t _have_ to sing to you or about you.”

“Not singing about me is good?” Blaine asked, trying to catch up, because the love in Kurt’s bright eyes was overwhelming and made no sense at all with the ache in his own chest.

“Yes, because I don’t have to. I don’t have to _make_ you hear me. I don’t have to sing because I can’t show my feelings in any other way. Do you see?”

Blaine’s heart’s free-fall transformed into flying, and his growing smile was genuine if a little unsteady. “I do.”

Kurt leaned up for a brief kiss and cupped Blaine’s cheek as he pulled back. His eyes crinkled, warm and happy. “Exactly.”

Blaine pressed into his hand and felt the enormity of what it must have meant to Kurt, what it must still mean to Kurt, because even if Blaine had been happy hiding behind his blazer and best smile he knew what it meant to _him_ that Kurt somehow saw him behind it all. It meant everything. And Kurt loving him, _making love_ with him, was so much more important than him expressing those same emotions in song in front of their friends. As much as Blaine would have liked the attention and the spectacle, there was no comparison when he thought about it that way.

He slid his fingers into Kurt’s hair and tugged him back to his mouth, kissing him hard, harder, until they were both breathless. Finally they pulled back, and Blaine closed his eyes and leaned his temple against Kurt’s. He cleared his throat and said, “For the record, I was never blind to your sense of fashion.”

Kurt choked on a laugh. “Yes, that was obviously hyperbole. Who could be?”

Blaine turned his head and brushed his mouth against Kurt’s smooth cheek. “I love you.”

“I know. What I feel about you... I don’t think I could capture it in a single song. Maybe a dozen.”

“I’m a good audience,” Blaine teased.

“No, you aren’t. Halfway through the first verse you’d be up out of your seat and harmonizing with me.”

“You say that like you wouldn’t like it.”

“Of course I’d like it. I like _you_.” Kurt’s expression turned more thoughtful, and he rose to his feet. “But if you want me to sing to you in front of everyone, if it’s important to you, I will think about it. I - what I feel for you isn’t something I need to share with other people, because it’s _us_ , but I’ll think about it.”

Blaine shook his head. “No, not if you don’t want to. It’s okay.”

“I’m not ashamed of how I feel about you,” Kurt told him firmly. “But I don’t care if they understand it. _You_ do.”

“I know. I do.” Blaine reached out for Kurt’s hand and pulled him closer. “Although I won’t say I’m not disappointed about missing this dozen-song concert you promised me.”

Kurt slid onto Blaine’s lap and steadied himself on Blaine’s shoulder as he reached over to switch off the music. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Blaine’s mouth. “Well, I don’t want you to be disappointed.” Pulling back so that he could smile into Blaine’s eyes, Kurt drew in a breath and sang softly, “ _I love you, I love you, I love you. That’s all I want to say._ ”

Blaine knew and loved how beautiful Kurt’s voice sounded when he sang, and yet there was something extra there, a purity to the notes from the meaning in the words. He found himself glad that he didn’t have to share them with anyone else.

“I love you, too,” he murmured, and Kurt’s smile was as warm as he’d ever seen it.

“Will you come upstairs with me? When the brownies are done?” Kurt asked softly, and it felt as natural and right as anything for Blaine to nod, because it wasn’t about anything but _them_.

And later, when they were curled up together beneath Kurt’s duvet, their breathing returning to normal and their bodies still entwined, Kurt sang, barely above a whisper, “ _When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now, will you still be sending me a valentine? Birthday greetings, bottle of wine?_ ”

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and pulled Kurt to him as tightly as he could manage with arms made of wobbly but very, very satisfied jelly. “Yes,” he promised, and his voice was so tight with emotion that he couldn’t have sung if his life had depended on it.


End file.
